


Time Is Money And Mine Is Expensive

by errantwheat



Series: Do I Look Lonely [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And a gavin dealing with his daddy issues fic, And also a casefic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, This is the wedding fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantwheat/pseuds/errantwheat
Summary: “Sup?”“Gavin-“Gavin hung up the phone and put it back down on the table. Nope. Fuck no.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m writing two fics at once stop me please

This didn’t seem like their scene. The Detroit Institute of Arts had been robbed, somebody made off with a 150 million dollar Van Gogh and left a perfect copy behind. Gavin didn’t know shit about art, but it looked pretty convincing to him. He figured nobody would have noticed, if it hadn’t been found in the hands of a dead man, laying in the middle of the room.  
That’s what made this their scene.  
There were also two dead androids, the night time security. But the human had no affiliation with the museum, so he was the one they were looking at right now.

“Theodore McVeigh, wanted for several charges of thievery,” Nines said. He was kneeling beside the body, checking it over.

“You aren’t gonna list em all off?” Gavin teased.

“It’s such a long list,”

“But you make bullshit details sound so hot,” Gavin was in a good mood, despite the current circumstances. There wasn’t a specific reason, stuff had just been good lately. His life hadn’t been flipped upside down in months. It was about damn time they caught a break, honestly.  
Yesterday had been a day off and he and Nines spent the evening wandering around downtown Detroit for fun, drinking something with tequila in it and joking and throwing coins in fountains and kissing. So much kissing. Gavin never got out like that, never really considered it something he liked, but he liked a lot of things he didn’t think he did before now that Nines was involved.

“His weapon is unregistered and also unfired.” Nines went on. Gavin loved to watch him do his thing, he was so fucking smart, Gavin was gonna marry the smartest android on the planet.  
Nines fished the guy’s wallet out of his pocket and flipped through it.  
“He has several IDs and cards registered to various pseudonyms. None of them are associated with any residence in Detroit,”

“One less place to visit,” Gavin shrugged, turning away from the body to look around the room. There were no other evidence markers around, this guy and whoever killed him had been careful.

“There are no prints on the fake painting, however there are traces of latex, which suggests human involvement,”

“Makes sense, I cant picture a lot of androids looking to score a hundred million bucks,”

“We can be greedy too, you know,” Nines sounded playful rather than offended.

“Oh yeah? What would you do with a fat stack of benjamins, huh?” Gavin looked back down at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Spoil you absolutely rotten,” Nines replied smoothly, standing up. What an asshole, making Gavin want to kiss him like that while they were on the clock, standing by a dead guy.

“Cool it, Casanova. We got any surveillance footage?”

Nines’s LED spun yellow. Gavin was pretty sure they were supposed to ask the museum before they went looking through their records, but he wasn’t gonna complain.

“That would be too easy. The cameras appear to have been hacked. However...there’s footage from a nearby traffic cam of a van leaving the museum at around the time that McVeigh and these androids were murdered, one of the museums own transports, and footage from a week ago of McVeigh, probably casing the museum.”

“One of the museums vans? Sounds traceable. You think it was an inside job? Everything seems too clean...” Nines gave Gavin a smile for that that made him shiver in a really good way.

“He appears to have purchased a private guided tour. His guide was Elizabeth Howell, hired a week prior to his visit.”

“So we should go find out whether the museum tracks its vans and talk to Ms. Howell,” Gavin concluded. Sounded like this one was gonna be easy.

He took another look around the room. It was pretty, and just cause he didn’t really get art didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to look at. There used to be a lot of the stuff around his house when he was really little. Did Nines like art? His brain was basically Google, he probably knew everything about every piece. It seemed like the kind of thing he’d be in to, walking around a place like this holding Gavin’s hand and telling him how historians speculate this piece showed the artist was gay as fuck because something about sight lines and phallic symbols.

“Think they’ll give us free tickets for coming down here?” Gavin asked casually.

“Perhaps. Why? Suddenly taken an interest in fine art?” Nines asked, clearly playing coy.

“I’m marrying a fine ass piece of art, so I guess you could say I’m a fan,” god, that was cheesy, but it made Nines smile, so Gavin didn’t care.

“We’re already here for free,” Nines said, sliding up next to Gavin and taking his hand, the left one. Gavin liked how their rings clinked together when he interlaced their fingers. “After we address some more immediate priorities, it wouldn’t be imprudent of us to investigate the rest of the grounds more thoroughly.”

“Just a quick look around,” Gavin agreed, grinning.

Elizabeth Howell wasn’t at work today, surprise surprise. She hadn’t picked up any calls or responded to any emails. If the van turned out to be a bust, maybe they’d swing by her address and see if she was home.

Gavin glanced over her desk. It was pretty clean and orderly, nothing stood out too sorely. There was a little plant that seemed to be thriving alright, paperwork in neat stacks, a cup full of pens, a postcard from New York taped to the computer monitor. Gavin turned it over.  
‘See you soon, babydoll,’ was all that was scrawled on the back, no signature. It felt kind of weird, too short, not sentimental enough. The handwriting felt a little familiar, but Gavin couldn’t place why.

“Some of the most recent files accessed on this computer concern the building’s layout and security,” Nines said, his skinless hand resting on the monitor.

“Why’d she even need McVeigh? it sounds like she could have pulled this shit off on her own,”

“Perhaps she intended to use him as a scapegoat, and upon realizing it he confronted her, so she killed him,”

Sounded reasonable to Gavin. “Did McVeigh have a place in New York?” He asked, looking back at the postcard.

“No...” Nines glanced at the card curiously.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Gavin asked, meaning the postcard.

“I do...Perhaps there were more accomplices involved?” Nines LED spun yellow one time.

“More than two people...they took off in a van, that had to be planned...maybe they meant to steal more shit, but things went wrong and all they got was the Van Gogh,” there was that smile again, god, it made Gavin feel so good.

The van, sadly, gave them nothing. They were tracked by GPS, but that function had been disabled in this one. Gavin figured it would be like that, but it never hurt to hope. Now Elizabeth Howell was their only lead.

They did sneak off and wander the museum a little before leaving. It was pretty irresponsible of them, goofing off on the clock like that, but it felt worth it to Gavin.

‘Animals in Landscape’ was the name of the painting they were looking at. Nines seemed transfixed by this one, staring at it with his LED yellow.

“Whatcha thinkin’ so hard about?” Gavin asked, bumping their shoulders together.

“Art from this era was intended to be...subjective. I suppose I’m trying to...interpret it, without referencing art historical databases,”

The idea of Nines trying to understand something emotionally rather than logically got Gavin feeling some kind of way.

“Well? What do you think?”

Nines tilted his head to the side a little. “The colors are quite jarring, but...happy, I think,” the way he scrunched his brow made Gavin die, “but the diagonals and the fragmentation of space are...unsettling. I don’t know if I like it.”

Gavin stood up on his toes and kissed Nines’s cheek. “You’re so fucking cute,” he said. Nines hummed pleasantly and tugged Gavin along to the next piece.

Ms. Howell wasn’t home, of course. No car in the driveway, door locked up tight.

“Should we actually get a search warrant this time and call it a day now?” Gavin asked, peeking in the little window beside the door. People who stole 150 million dollar paintings didn’t stick around the crime scene and hide, this lady was probably half way to Paris by now. (Would Nines wanna visit Paris? Or someplace else? Gavin had never really traveled for fun before, maybe Nines would like that kind of thing) Gavin was feeling suspicious that the FBI was gonna show up and snatch this case at some point, honestly.

“I suppose we should follow the rules occasionally. We still have to report on all of this, anyway,” Nines replied.

Gavin absently checked the mailbox as they left. That wasn’t following the rules, but whatever. Another postcard from New York, nothing written on this one but it smelled like cologne.  
“Do these have any prints on them?” Gavin asked, holding it up by the edges like a CD.

Nines hooked his arm with Gavin’s and tilted his head to look at it. Absolute professionals, they were.

“The mail person’s, obviously, and Ms. Howell’s, strangely. She must have picked it up and then put it back.”

“Weird...no return address. Does she have any relatives or anything out east?”

Nines took a second to search. “None. And...none of their personal social media accounts indicate a recent vacation to New York either. The fragrance is Bleu de Chanel, by the way.”

“Chanel cologne sounds like high profile art thief material. I wonder how many more of these she has...” Gavin trailed off thoughtfully. It was kind of a familiar smell, but it had been around for forever.

Nines kissed his cheek. Gavin grinned and put the postcard back in the mailbox. “Jesus, you’re so needy, I can’t stare into space for one minute,” he teased.

“Stare at me, I’m pretty,” Nines said, dragging one finger along Gavin’s jaw, guiding his head to turn for another kiss. Professionals. The DPD’s finest.

They spent the rest of the day at the station writing reports, and flipping through evidence, and applying for a search warrant. It was the most boring part of the job, just sitting around typing while his muscles and skeleton took irreparable damage from his shitty posture and his eyes burned out from staring at his computer screen.  
Gavin scribbled ‘coffee?’ on a sticky note and folded it into an airplane, then nonchalantly launched it at Nines.

Nines caught it, of course, without even a glance away from his computer. Information was flashing across the screen so fast it hurt to look at. Gavin knew it could go faster, but the computer would actually start to seize up. The impatient look Nines had about it sometimes was so precious.

The party stopped when Nines took his hand back to unfold Gavin’s note. Gavin pretended he wasn’t watching. Nines wrote something- Gavin loved to watch him write. His hands were so pretty, and the way they moved a pen was so measured and sure, it was like those videos of people writing ‘fuck’ or whatever in fancy calligraphic script. Sometimes he played around with what his handwriting looked like, and Gavin thought that was really cute, too.  
He flinched when the tiny airplane almost crashed into his face.  
Nines stood up and made for the break room as Gavin unfolded the airplane.  
He’d written ‘no.’ Cheeky bastard.  
He was back in a moment with a fresh cup of coffee that he put in front of Gavin.

“Thank you gorgeous,” Gavin hummed, propping his chin up on his hands and batting his eyelashes.  
Nines just pinched his cheek fondly and went back to his desk. Weren’t people supposed to act like this at the beginning of a relationship and then hate each other at the end? They did this backwards, somehow. Gavin wasn’t complaining.

He never cared much for grocery shopping, it was a chore, and he always got lost and bought shit he didn’t need and forgot stuff because he never made a list, and waiting in lines sucked, and small talk with cashiers was painful for everyone involved. But again, Gavin liked stuff he didn’t like before with Nines in the picture. It was kind of fun, seeing what new way Nines would find to light up something mundane. It made him want to try stuff, like going to art museums and traveling.

Nines’s chosen method of making Gavin’s whole fucking life wonderful at the moment seemed to be buying little unexpected things. An obscure fruit, Lay’s latest potato chip flavor experiment, drinks from the international section with absolutely no English on them.  
“Are you bugging out? What is this stuff?” Gavin asked. He wasn’t mad, he was intrigued.

“I’m just curious what you’ll think of them,” Nines said, side-eyeing Gavin coyly.

“So I’m your guinea pig because you can’t eat, huh?”

“I can put them back if you want,”

“Dont you dare, this is cute as fuck, you know I would put anything in my mouth for you,” Gavin really liked the smile Nines gave him for that.

“The chips are pretty good,” Gavin said, before popping another one in his mouth while he watched Nines cook. Nines didn’t cook all the time, but it was fun when he did, cause Gavin got to sit back and stare at his ass and be a pest. And the food Nines made was always great, and Gavin loved how he looked when he was told so.

“Don’t ruin your appetite,” Nines chided over his shoulder fondly. God he was so cute.  
Gavin was perfectly content to sit there and think about how fucking cute his fiancée was and how he couldn’t wait to take his cock later like it was all he lived for, but his phone rang and interrupted him. Fucking rude. It wasn’t a number he knew, but whatever, he was in the mood to mess with a telemarketer.

“Sup?”

“Gavin-“

Gavin hung up the phone and put it back down on the table. Nope. Fuck no. His heart must have done something or whatever, because Nines turned and looked at him.  
Gavin picked up the phone and called the number back.

“Hey, kid, you-“

Gavin hung up the phone again. What the hell was he doing? Trying to make sure it was real, maybe.  
The phone rang in his hand again.  
Gavin met Nines’s eyes across the kitchen. Shit was so good right now, he could just let the phone ring, he didn’t need to let it get complicated.  
But he was trying all kinds of new shit and doing all kinds of stuff he thought he’d never do, so why not? If this exploded in his face, at least he had Nines to make it better. He answered the phone.

“Gavin. Something wrong with the cell service in Detroit?”

“Nope. What do you want?”

“I can’t call my kid just cause?”

“Alright, bye,” Gavin pulled the phone away from his ear to hit the end call button.

“Hey, hey, hang on- I heard you’re getting married,”

Who the fuck told him that? Gavin put the phone to his ear again.

“Don’t see how that’s your business,”

“Gimme a break, kid, I’m tryin’ to tell you I’m happy for you. Listen, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’m in the area on some business, do you want to meet up sometime?”

“Oh, Jesus, are you trying to get into witness protection or something? Who’d you piss off, huh?”

“Nobody, I’m serious, what do you say?”

Gavin had a lot of shit to say. Things like ‘fuck you,’ and ‘no, goodbye, I hope you choke,’ and ‘I’m not seven-fucking-teen, you don’t get to call me up and try to be involved or whatever whenever you feel like it, take your new conscience and fuck off.’ But he didn’t say it, cause things were so good, and he didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t want to let this asshole make him angry. And he was trying stuff, and getting better, maybe he could use this kind of closure.

“Sure. Text me. Bye.” He hung up before he got an answer. Nines put a pretty pasta dish on the table in front of him and sat down, quietly waiting for Gavin to talk first, if he wanted to. God, he was so good, Gavin loved him so fucking much.

“Are you proud of me?” Gavin asked, rubbing his hands over his face. Nines didn’t need him to explain, he could hear the whole conversation, and they’d had the 3 AM ‘my childhood sucked and my daddy issues are the source of all my problems’ talk already.

“Yes, though I wouldn’t have been disappointed in you if you’d told him to fuck off and die.” Gavin giggled a little at his choice of words. Blunt and crass sounded so funny from him.

Nines reached across the table and took Gavin’s hand.  
“You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, Gavin, it’s okay,”

“Yeah, I know, I just...” Gavin ran his thumb over the ring on Nines’s finger. God it was so pretty on him, he fucking loved Nines’s hands, “maybe it’ll be good, you know? At the very least I can punch him in the face.”

Nines leaned over the table and kissed him, and then stood up to go start on the dishes, leaving Gavin to eat.  
God, he was gonna see his dad. He was marrying an android and he was gonna see his dad. Fucking wild.

Gavin almost dropped his fork.  
He was gonna see his dad.  
His dad was in town? On business?  
His dad was like Indiana Jones’s evil twin. His business was the black market. He hadn’t grown a fucking conscience, he wanted something.  
The museum, the Van Gogh piece, the postcards, the handwriting, the cologne, it all clicked.

“Hey, babe, can you track that number?”

“Yes, dear,”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels kind of scattered but I hope you like it anyway!

Gavin’s dad had left when he was like seven. Or was he ten? Six? He was a kid. There was no big fight, no slamming doors or screaming or throwing his shit out on the sidewalk, no guilty goodbye, he was just gone one morning. He never actually explained why- he talked like they were still tight when he called, like they were still family, and he was just gone on a business trip or something. Gavin guessed he’d just gotten bored, he was an adventurous guy. He was an archaeologist at first- the Indiana Jones’s evil twin bit wasn’t even a joke. He liked to travel and see the sights, and change his identity frequently, and steal shit, and that was hard to do with a wife and a kid. Had his parents even been married? Gavin couldn’t remember. He’d probably assumed they were because he was like seven.

His father stopped calling when Gavin was 18. They stopped talking when he was 16, really, because Gavin stopped answering the phone. He wasn’t sure if he always blamed his dad for leaving, or if he blamed him more after Elijah. Maybe he felt abandoned, in that way that people do when they’re kids- he didn’t feel it all the time, couldn’t even put a name on it until he was bigger, but it showed up in his grades and how bratty and needy he acted and how clingy he was and how much he hated Elijah and Elijah’s father for being the family his mother deserved. God, they were perfect- Elijah’s dad was really a sweet guy, he treated her right, and Elijah was a fucking star. Gavin was just leftovers.

All that fed into destructive teen angst, obviously. At that point Gavin understood he was a classic case, and he blamed his dad, and the whole world too. He was a fucking mess. He did a lot of stupid shit, he made his mama cry, all the things that tropey damaged teenage punks do in movies.

And now here Gavin was, an adult, totally over it all, unless you psychoanalyzed everything he did. Which sucked, really. Was he a detective because he was good at it and he cared about the work or was it because he was chasing his father? Was he so scared of intimacy and vulnerability because it was just a hard thing for some people, or because he was scared everyone was gonna ditch him like his dad had? Was he so fucking angry because he just was, or was it because he was compensating for the absence of a father figure in his childhood by presenting hypermasculinity? Was he so clingy because low key he just really liked affection and all that stuff, or was it the abandonment issues again? It was like he couldn’t be his own fucking person, he was stuck being a mess somebody else made instead.

It’s not like he had an identity crisis about it every five minutes. He really didn’t. He hardly thought about his dad anymore. Gavin was a homicide detective, he had plenty of other stuff to be fucked up over.  
But he was gonna see his dad again, after over twenty years. Was he ready to confront all the emotional baggage that came with over lunch today? Fuck no.

Well, maybe. He was gonna have backup, after all. Backup was currently curled into Gavin’s side, head resting on his chest. As much as Gavin liked to be held, he loved it when Nines did this.  
“I like to listen to your heartbeat,” Nines had explained one time. It was the cutest, most cliché robot shit Gavin had ever heard. How was Nines supposed to listen to his heart when he made it explode like that? Dumb android.  
Gavin wrapped his arms around his dumb android, cradled his head, god his hair was so soft. Could the rest of the day just like, not exist? So he could chill here and hold his fiancé instead?  
He was pretty sure Nines wasn’t actually sleeping. But he was good at pretending, because he was good at everything. And he probably thought it would be boring if he was the one waking Gavin up all the time. That was apparently the kind of thing you thought about when your brain was a supercomputer.

“Hey,” Gavin ruffled Nines’s hair, because they did have a job to get to at some point, tragically, “if you’re pretending to sleep, and I’m pretending to sleep, who’s feeding the cats?”

“Bonnie, probably,” Nines mumbled against Gavin’s chest, obviously not interested in moving yet.  
Bonnie had been arguably one of the best decisions of Gavin’s life. She was another cat- they had five now. But she was an android cat. Nines loved her so much- she’d been more or less an engagement gift for him.  
She’d also figured out how to open basically every door in the house in under an hour. Gavin had named her Bonnie because she was a fucking criminal, breaking in to the fridge and the pantry just for kicks, she didn’t even have to eat. But her best friend and accomplice, Chicken Nugget the disaster cat, loved people food. And the other three cats, Lady, Asshat, and Poppers, weren’t too opposed to it either. It wasn’t really a problem, unless Gavin forgot to latch the child locks Nines had Bonnie-proofed everything with.

“Oh perfect, so we can just stay here, huh?” Gavin wasn’t even a little ashamed at the number of days off he and Nines had spent the majority of in bed, just cuddling and lazy fucking and snacking and watching funny videos. Gavin wanted that so fucking bad right now. But today wasn’t a day off, they had a search warrant to make good on, and a deadbeat dad to interrogate over lunch.

“Hey, babe, can you track that number?” He’d asked the other night.

“Yes, dear,” Nines had replied.  
He was washing dishes, which he shouldn’t be, Gavin decided, because he had cooked dinner and he couldn’t even eat it, so it was only fair if Gavin cleaned up. And Gavin felt like he needed to do something with his hands after that phone call and his fucking epiphany. He crossed the kitchen and took the dish Nines was washing from his hands, gently hip-bumping him out of the way.

“Why am I doxxing your father?” Nines asked, letting Gavin take over and leaning back against the counter beside him instead.

“I think he’s involved in the museum robbery,” Gavin replied, scrubbing away at a plate.

“Based on what?”

“It’s...kind of just a hunch right now,” Gavin knew he was making it sound like bullshit, like he just wanted a made up reason to arrest his dad because he hated his dad. But Nines was waiting patiently for him to continue, taking him seriously as far as Gavin could tell, and that soothed the twisting in his chest just a little.  
“The handwriting on the postcards, the cologne, I thought they felt familiar. And this is sort of his deal- it started off with pawning little pieces he copped from archaeological digs, and then he got big into art forgery. The fact that he’s in town right now can’t be just a coincidence. And asking to see me? He wants something- maybe he lost the painting, maybe Howell took off with it for herself, or somebody else, and he wants to use us to get it?”

“His record is relatively clean, under Johnathan Reed, at least, we would need more solid evidence to arrest him,” Nines mused, looking down at Poppers, who was doing figure-eights around his legs now. Gavin didn’t like the sound of his father’s name, it made all this feel too real.

“Maybe we’ll get something when we see him...you’ll go with me, right?” Nines was known to occasionally push Gavin out of the nest and make him do emotional stuff by himself. It wasn’t mean, he just wanted to show Gavin that he could do it. But Gavin didn’t want to do this one alone, he didn’t trust himself to stay cool and make good decisions, he needed Nines to sit next to him and hold his hand and be his calm and collected anchor.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Nines said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

And now here they were, waiting for his dad to show up at the café he’d picked out. It was relatively high end, outdoor seating mostly, and very cozy- all the little tables were so close together. The place basically had a ‘no loudly airing 30 years of bitterness allowed’ sign on the door.

Gavin was nervous. He was bouncing his leg and twisting his engagement ring around his finger and itching for a cigarette. Why the fuck did he agree to this?  
Nines let him fidget for a little bit, and then finally covered Gavin’s left hand with his.

“My dearest Gavin,” he began- god just his voice was like a fistful of Xanax, “I love and respect you immeasurably, and no matter how this goes I’ll support whatever you choose to do,” wow, android detective and canonized saint, apparently. Gavin absolutely didn’t deserve how perfect Nines was- “but you only have to say the word and no one will ever find his body.”

“Oh, look at that,” Gavin turned his right wrist over and looked at the watch he didn’t have, “its been five minutes, time to kiss you again,” and he did. It was a pleasant day in late spring and he was kissing his fiancé at a pretty little outdoor café. Like a Renoir painting that his dad could fucking steal.

“Can we do the ‘pass the salt daddy’ joke if I promise to suck you off later?” Gavin asked, feeling better.

“You can do whatever you want, my love, you’re in charge today,” Nines replied, planting another kiss on Gavin’s temple. God, he was so good. CyberLife had found actual husband material and built an android out of it.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, it’s like lookin’ at old selfies,”  
Gavin was personally familiar with the sound of a gun firing in a quiet room, he knew the feelings it induced. Hearing his father’s voice was basically the same. Seeing his face wasn’t any better.

The resemblance was infuriatingly strong. At least Gavin knew what he was gonna look like in another 25 years, if he decided to take up dressing like a sleazy car salesman from an 80s movie but with good hair. It was sort of a Hank-ish outfit, which was a terrifying association that Gavin wanted to un-think immediately. Maybe it was a generational thing. Gavin was gonna have to stop smoking, so he didn’t sound exactly like his dad later too.

His dad sat down across from them. Gavin smothered the impulse to snatch his hand away from Nines’s and hide it. He should want his dad to see. He should want to rub it in his father’s face that he was in a happy committed relationship with a gorgeous, considerate, murderously inclined angel.

“Johnathan Reed,” Nines greeted, offering his right hand. He had such a talent for looking at people like they weren’t worth his fucking time, even smiling. It used to get under Gavin’s skin, but now he loved it. Because now Nines used it on people that they mutually disliked, instead of him. He hoped it bothered his dad. How did his dad even feel about androids? Did he hate them? If he did, and he said a fucking thing out of place, Gavin was gonna have to kick his ass in this cute little café.

“Call me John,” his dad said, reaching to shake Nines’s hand. He paused midway and looked between the two of them. Gavin didn’t like the way a grin looked on his face. “Police bots don’t have tasers built in these days, do they?”

Oh, god, Gavin fucking wished. The corny dad energy in that question made him want to fucking gag.

“A valid question. Why don’t we all find out together?” Nines teased. Gavin was so glad he was here.  
John laughed and finally shook Nines’s hand, Gavin hoped Nines made it hurt, just a little.

“So,” John said, leaning back in his seat. Where was the off button for that smile? Gavin really wanted to know, “you grew up alright, Gav. How’s life?”

“Forget the small talk, what do you know about the Detroit Institute of Arts?” Gavin hadn’t decided whether he was gonna try to be friendly or not until that moment. It didn’t really feel like it was up to him, he was on edge just from being around his father.

“Nothin’, I’ve never been,” John nonchalantly examined his fingernails.

“Bullshit, it was robbed this week,” Gavin tried to at least keep his voice quiet. Nines was perfectly calm beside him, but watching John’s face attentively. Analyzing for micro-expressions, reading his tells. Supporting Gavin no matter how he wanted to play this, even if Gavin sucked at this game.  
Gavin loved him so fucking much.

“That so? Shame,” The old man wanted to make this difficult it seemed, “is that really what you wanna talk about? Work?”

No, Gavin thought, narrowing his eyes. He shouldn’t talk about work. That’s what his dad wanted. If he talked about work he might accidentally give his dad whatever he was fishing for.  
“Life’s fine,” he grumbled instead, “I’m getting married- who told you so anyway?”

“I still talk to your mom sometimes. We’re Facebook friends.”

Gavin didn’t like that. His mom was a nice lady, to the point of being kind of a doormat. “Guess that’s cool, if you like seeing how great she is without you,”

He’d meant for his words to sting but his father seemed unaffected, he only shrugged, “I’m glad she’s doing alright. Wasn’t her fault I left. Wasn’t yours either, you know, look...”

Gavin didn’t like where this was going

“I know we weren’t on great terms last time we talked. I get it. Family life just wasn’t for me, you know? It was better things ended when they did, for all of us. No sense in trying to force it to work. Anyway, I figure you’re all grown up now, and things seem to be going good for you, maybe it’s time we got to know each other again, huh?”  
Gavin knew what he didn’t like about his dad’s smile now. He couldn’t tell for the life of him whether it was fake or not.

Gavin didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t decide if he was angry or not. He should be angry, right? He wanted to be angry, he had a right to be angry. But his dad had a point- he was an adult, he’d moved on with his life, maybe it was time to let go of his lingering resentment. It would suck to be mad about this forever, right? He could be devoting that energy to loving the fuck out of his husband instead.  
Or maybe his dad was trying to get on his good side right now and he was falling for it like a fucking buffoon.

“We’ll see,” Gavin said cautiously.

“That’s all I ask,” his father gestured openly with his hands, then let them fall back to the table and continued, “So, tell me about your man, huh? Who’s the guy marrying my son?”

“I am an RK900 android. Prototype detective model specializing in investigation, negotiation, and interrogation.” Nines recited pleasantly. He was still holding Gavin’s hand, idly running a finger back and forth over Gavin’s ring.

“I call him Nines,” Gavin mercifully translated, “you can’t call him Nines. We met at work,”

“Gavin tried to fight me,” Nines chimed, glancing fondly at Gavin. That was still apparently one of his favorite stories. It was, admittedly, pretty funny in hindsight. If somebody had told Gavin he was gonna marry that arrogant, bitchy, know-it-all ice queen robot that was gonna take his job and maybe murder him, he would try to fight them too.

“At least it wasn’t boring,” John chuckled, “go on, I want the whole story,”

This was weird.  
Gavin was having a civil conversation with his father right now and it was getting easier by the second.  
They ordered food, and Nines saved Gavin’s fucking life again by suggesting something to try, because his dad ordered what he was planning to order and he couldn’t get the same thing, that would be awkward as fuck.

“Dinner dates ever feel kind of strange for you?” John asked, gesturing at them with a french fry. It took Gavin a second to get what he meant.

“No,” he replied. He could say that they used to be. It used to creep him out that Nines didn’t eat, it made him feel self-conscious. But that was before they were even a thing. Now it was kind of part of the fun- should he mention how cute he thought it was when Nines pointed out things Gavin could try like he’d just done, and asked him what it was like? Too personal, he decided, “bites of stuff every once in a while don’t hurt, anyway,” Gavin said instead.

Without even thinking about it he offered Nines the bite on his fork at that moment, and Nines, because he was Gavin’s hero and also a fearless monster with absolutely no insecurities, took it, and it was cute as fuck, and they did that cute as fuck thing in front of Gavin’s fucking dad.  
Rubbing it in his face, Gavin reminded himself. They could be an obnoxious, Hollywood-happy couple if they fucking felt like it, and his dad could deal with it.

“Taste any good?” John asked. He didn’t look uncomfortable, actually he looked pretty content. Happy for them? Gavin couldn’t decide if he liked that or not. He was thinking too fucking hard.

“I can analyze the ingredients and nutritional statistics, but Im afraid I have no sense of taste, where food is concerned.” He sounded just a tiny bit bummed about it. Gavin hoped the new CyberLife came out with an upgrade someday that let androids actually eat and taste stuff. Nines seemed like he kind of wanted it. Trying to picture his face the first time he could taste something sweet was gonna get Gavin through this fucking day.  
“My taste in men, however, is impeccable,” Nines continued unexpectedly.  
Gavin almost fucking choked.

“You gotta warn me before you say shit like that, unless your taste in men is dead,” he complained.  
His dad was laughing. He had a very dad sounding laugh, it was just as vexing as his smile.

Not once over the course of this lunch did Gavin’s father ever say anything incriminating. He didn’t even bring up Gavin’s job or the museum again. And the easier it got to talk to him, the less suspicious Gavin felt. He tried to stay alert, but the old man was making some kind of okay jokes, and being friendly and cool in general. He liked a lot of stuff that Gavin liked. Shared a surprising number of opinions. It was kind of scary, but kind of validating. Extremely disarming, either way.  
Nines seemed to be letting his guard down too, but Gavin didn’t think it was real. He thanked god basically every other minute that Nines was with him right now, staying on fucking task because Gavin apparently couldn’t.

He felt a little like he’d been successfully conned when they said goodbye. Letting his dad fondly pat his shoulder without shrugging away or saying something bitchy felt like handing over his wallet. Everything looked nice at face value- Gavin hadn’t punched anybody, and his father seemed genuinely interested in repairing their relationship. But it couldn’t be that fucking simple, right? Maybe he just didn’t want it to be that simple? Was he trying to hang on to his bitterness because he was still too insecure to go without it? He didn’t fucking need it. Maybe it was all for real, and he was being unfair and paranoid. Maybe he just needed a cigarette.

“What did you think of him?” Gavin asked. He sounded as strained as he felt. Gross. Nines linked their arms together and Gavin was more than happy to lean into him and let him lead the way.

“He was charming I suppose. You have a surprising amount in common,” Nines hummed thoughtfully. Gavin scrunched his nose. That review was much too positive.

“Do you think he’s like...for real?” Gavin very much needed the second opinion.

“Do you want him to be?” Nines hit him with the question so casually, like it wasn’t deeper than the marianas fucking trench.

“No,” Gavin said, because he didn’t actually know. Nines seemed to get that.

“I think...” Nines continued slowly, LED spinning yellow just once, “although it’s entirely up to you, you should be careful. It’s difficult to see his true intentions at the moment. I would hate to see you betrayed...”

The sentiment was sweet, and really, deeply appreciated, but something about the way he said that last bit made Gavin snort.

“You’d hate to fuck up your spotless disciplinary file you mean,” had he told Nines that he was being fucking amazing about all this drama yet? Like he always was with all of Gavin’s bullshit? He should.

“Hey,” Gavin stopped walking and tugged Nines to face him. Were they obstructing foot traffic? Probably. Gavin didn’t care. “I love you.”

That pretty much encapsulated everything Gavin wanted to say. He wasn’t so good at looking at Nines’s face and thinking of long sentences at the same time sometimes. Because he was really gay.

“I love you too,” Nines replied easily, and kissed him. Then he took Gavin’s hand and tugged him along, asking, “ice cream for dessert?”

Did Gavin want to walk around on a day like this with his fiancé holding his hand and stealing flirty licks from his strawberry ice cream cone? It sounded disgustingly fucking cute. They really couldn’t make a habit of this- spending work hours being cheesy and adorable; they still had the house to investigate. But Gavin was a weak, weak man.  
They’d be on their best behavior tomorrow. Today he deserved ice cream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed this fic :’) hope u enjoy this update ! I’ll try to keep them coming

Damn,” Gavin mused, taking in the scene around them. 

“Damn,” RK900 echoed. 

Elizabeth Howell’s house would be passably fashionable if it wasn’t an absolute disaster. Furniture upturned, drawers pulled out, their contents scattered, glasses shattered, a quaint little basket of oranges spilled across the kitchen floor and a poor potted plant toppled over. 

“It looks as though somebody was attempting to intimidate Ms. Howell...”

“Or they stole somethin’, and they don’t want us to know what,” Gavin said, just as RK900 thought it. It made his processors practically light up with affection for the man. 

“Indeed,” RK900 initiated a scan. It would be tricky, but...”perhaps if I can use the wreckage to reconstruct the culprit’s path through the house, I can identify anything missing.” 

The grin Gavin gave him for that was more than worth some tedious calculations.

And he couldn’t help regarding Gavin smacking his ass with some degree of fondness as well, at this point. 

“Get to work then, baby,” the cheeky little shit said, before shoving his hands in his pockets and meandering off. 

The probability that whoever had made this mess was still in the house was practically 0%, so RK900 didn’t mind losing sight of Gavin on anything more than a sentimental, super gay level. 

His human had a 7% chance of tripping and falling down the house’s only staircase. The likelihood that he would cut himself on some broken glass, however, stood at 22%. RK900 picked up one of the fallen oranges and placed it on the kitchen counter. It complicated his reconstruction marginally, but at least the probability that Gavin would slip on it fell from 15% to 0%. RK900 amused himself with calculating all these statistics while the reconstruction ran as a background task. 

It’s not that he was particularly anxious Gavin would harm himself, he just knew his fiancé was a magnet for trouble. It was one of his many very endearing traits. Though RK900 had become terribly biased. There was hardly a single thing Gavin did anymore that he didn’t find so hopelessly endearing. 

And as much as RK900 loved his job, and doing what he was built for, thinking about Gavin was just a little more fun than estimating the height and age of their culprit based on the trajectory of those oranges. 

“Do you think these are worth keeping?” Gavin asked, wandering back into the kitchen with a handful of those postcards. 

RK900 considered them. They were the same as the others. No return address, no signature. Some were blank, others had obscure messages. No fingerprints. By a graphological analysis, the weight and slant of the handwriting indicated that the sender was a bit of a narcissist, but that was all RK900 could really glean from them as they were. 

They were certainly unusual. And RK900 was far, far beyond discrediting Gavin’s intuition. But Gavin still seemed to be anxiously anticipating him doing so, which simply wasn’t acceptable. 

“Perhaps their meaning might reveal itself as we find more.” RK900 would track down every postcard in this god damn house if it would make Gavin happy. 

He seemed reassured by that. Good. In the meantime, RK900’s reconstruction was pinging him, bidding that he proceed upstairs. 

It led him through the whole second floor and ended in Ms. Howell’s bedroom, which was in the same state as the rest of the house. 

Silk sheets? In a rental house she’d only inhabited for less than a month, according to her records? Elizabeth Howell clearly knew how to live. 

RK900 eagerly watched the simulated figure in his reconstruction throw the closet open, tear the pillows apart, empty Ms. Howell’s desk, and yet...the results were inconclusive. If they were looking for something, they had not found it. There was nothing missing. 

Absently he noted the sound of Gavin’s phone chiming with a new text message downstairs and wondered who it was from. Normally Gavin kept the ringer off, but since his father had rolled into town he left it on. 

Well, there were  _some_  things missing. Clothing, shoes, personal electronics, toothbrush. All these implied that Ms. Howell was not coming back. Perhaps this simply was intimidation, and successful at that. 

They were at another dead end, it seemed. RK900 plucked a postcard from Ms. Howell’s desk and shuffled it neatly into the stack he’d collected.  

There was surely hope yet. If she was foolish, Ms. Howell might have rented a hotel room or bought plane tickets under that particular name. That wasn’t necessarily information lowly police detectives were supposed to have access to, but-

“Ow, fuck- motherfucker-“ 

22%

Only 22% and yet. 

RK900 went back downstairs, stopping on the last step and waiting for Gavin to turn around and notice him. 

“What?” Gavin demanded around his own finger in his mouth, looking guilty. Did he have to be so damn cute all the time? 

RK900 simply tilted his head. 

“Oh relax, drama queen, it’s just a fuckin’ papercut.” 

Ah, papercut, he hadn’t calculated that one. His darling Gavin, always full of surprises. 

“And here I was, just about to hand you these. How utterly irresponsible of me.” RK900 held his stack of postcards loosely as if he were about to toss them away, and Gavin stomped over and snatched them. 

“Alright, dickhead, it’s not my fault I’m not made of plastic. Did you find anythin’ else?” 

“No,” RK900 replied. He didn’t think he sounded as disappointed as he felt, but he must have, because Gavin shoved his shoulder affectionately. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. We’ve solved cases on less. You remember the one with the hamster?”

“I do remember the one with the hamster.” A wealthy lady had accused her maid of stealing a pair of earrings. It turned out one of her many, many android pets, a hamster with personalized lime green leopard print fur, had decided he ought to hold them in his mouth for two weeks.  

“You know what I think will cheer you up?” Gavin asked, voice suddenly quite coy. 

This had to be good. “I can hardly bear the suspense.” 

“Going out for drinks tonight with Tina and Gwen.” So that’s who had been texting, RK900 should have guessed. 

Gavin deserved to go out and have fun tonight, the day had started off on such a stressful note for him. He was still frustrated and confused, RK900 knew. A night out with Tina Chen would be the perfect cure for all of that. 

“That’s a delightful idea.” 

Oh the smile Gavin gave him for that. He must have figured out at this point that he could make RK900 do literally anything for him if he only smiled like that. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here then.” 

 

Dinner preceded the bar-hopping, of course. It was nice, even though RK900 could not exactly partake, he liked the company. Tina was, as always, a delight, and he felt that he and Gwen got on well. “It’s nice to hang out with somebody else who knows how to calculate a tip,” she’d teased, lightly elbowing Tina beside her. 

“Aw come on, it doesn’t matter if it’s correct, as long as it’s enough, right?” Gavin was on his second martini already and clearly feeling better. 

“Exactly!” Tina gestured widely with her fork, “see? Besides, like, half the time it tells you on the receipt.” 

“What do you do when it doesn’t?” Gwen asked, looking terribly fond. 

“I ask my wife,” Tina responded with a very cheeky grin. 

They were such a darling couple, RK900 thought. Did people look at he and Gavin and think they were cute together like that? Probably not. Their affectionate banter wasn't nearly so tame. But RK900 preferred it that way. 

“At least you have the good sense to do that much,” he quipped, knowing precisely the reaction he would receive for it.

“I don’t have to ask you fuck all, you’ll just tell me. I think bein’ a smartass is what charges your fuckin’ batteries.” Gavin snapped, knocking back the remainder of his martini. And then, in case it wasn’t already clear that there was no real resentment in his words, he added, “you’re just lucky you’re cute when you’re a shit.” No, not nearly so tame at all. 

“I’m cute all the time,” RK900 corrected him, just to be, as Gavin had so eloquently put it, a shit. 

Tina very tactfully waited until they were at the bar and all suitably inebriated to ask about their lunch with Gavin’s father earlier. 

“It was the fuckin’ worst,” Gavin lamented, “Well, not the complete fuckin’ worst, this gay fuck let me feed him in front of my  _dad.”_

“Oh,  _nice_ ,” Tina said, raising her hand for a high-five. RK900 obliged. 

Tina detested Gavin’s father on principle, which RK900 found admirable. He was inclined to do the same, but was trying to remain neutral, in case Gavin wanted to reconcile with him. He couldn’t seem to decide what he wanted on that front, at present. Of course that was understandable, it was a complicated situation. 

And if he was entirely honest, RK900 was a little afraid that he couldn’t be much help, given his admittedly rather limited experience with complicated emotions. He could download all the psychology databases he pleased and it still couldn’t quite amount to real experience. He could only follow Gavin’s lead and try to keep him from harm where possible. 

As he thought he’d been doing when he’d accepted the food Gavin had offered him. “Should I not have?” 

“No, no, no, babe,” Gavin patted RK900’s shoulder, presumably in a miscalculated attempt at his face, and  _then_  his face. Gavin was, contrary to what he projected, extremely affectionate, both physically and with words. Alcohol took the self-consciousness out of this equation and made him express it far more freely. 

“baby, sweetheart, you were gorgeous, I just- I dunno, I was on edge I guess. I can’t...” Gavin had absently left his hand on RK900’s face, so he took it and held it instead. “I can’t tell if he’s like...for real or not, you know?” 

“Yeah...that’s fucked, dude,” Tina agreed, going to take another sip of her drink before realizing it was empty. 

Gwen pushed a glass of water across the table at her. It  _was_  getting rather late. “If I’m understanding correctly,” she said, “your father is an active criminal. Whether his desire to reconnect is genuine or not...he doesn’t sound like the trustworthy sort.” 

Pragmatic, RK900 admired that as well. He had been grateful for this evening, but suddenly that feeling grew far deeper. It was reassuring that Gavin had such good friends in the face of a situation this difficult. 

“Hey Gav, does your dad happen to look like you but old and with shit fashion sense?” Tina asked, narrowing her eyes toward the door. What a dreadfully specific question. RK900 didn’t dare follow her gaze, so as not to alert Gavin to what had clearly gone over his head.

“Oh, my  _God_  yeah, it’s a fuckin’ nightmare. Why?” 

“Oh, no reason,” Tina hummed, sipping her water. Bless her for trying, Gavin might have even bought it in his current state, but Tina was much better at lying when she was sober. 

“Fuck me, he’s- is he-“ Gavin turned to look and then promptly buried his face in RK900’s shoulder with a groan and a muffled stream of expletives, “fuck my whole life, fuckin’  _shit_ -“ 

“I’m sure there’s a back door we can use,” Gwen suggested. “We could go somewhere else.”

“No way!” Tina crossed her arms and glared openly across the room. “We were here first, fuck him.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed, sitting up again, “ _fuck_  him.” His drink was getting low. He really should switch to water too, but...RK900 ordered him just  _one_  more whiskey. He would appreciate it, given the circumstances. 

“This might be an opportunity,” RK900 added quietly, “to observe his behavior without the influence of our presence. And...if I can see his signature when he pays his bill, I might be able to check it against the handwriting on those postcards.” 

“Oh, fuck, babe,” Gavin gave him one of those smiles he liked so god damn much, “you can’t, you  _can’t_  talk like that in public, it’s fuckin’ indecent.” 

“If it’s his handwriting you want, should I go chat him up and get his number?” Tina asked, swiping Gavin’s whiskey when it arrived and stealing a sip. 

The grin on Gavin’s face was replaced by an admittedly hilarious look of absolute horror. “ _Tina_ , what the  _fuck_?  _No_.” 

“Why not? I got moves, right babe?” 

“Oh, yes,” Gwen said, patting her wife’s hand. “Get him with the puns. I love the puns.” 

“Tina, that’s my  _dad_ ,” Gavin whined, snatching his drink back. 

“God, yeah, it’s like a shitty porno. ‘Oh, hi Mister Reed, is Gavin home?’” Tina fought through giggles, putting on an exaggeratedly high voice. 

Gavin took one of RK900’s hands and held it to his face. “Punch my fuckin’ brains out of my head, I know you can.” 

“Not now, my love,” RK900 responded, patting his cheek. 

The conversation proceeded away from Gavin’s father, and after just _one_ more drink, he seemed to have forgotten the man’s presence entirely. Even Tina stopped glaring over their shoulders at him. 

RK900 remained vigilant in their stead. 

It was getting late, Tina and Gavin had moved beyond the wild giggling phase of being drunk and were approaching the sleepy phase, indicating that it was nearing the time to gather them up and take them home. Gavin was leaning into RK900’s side, playing with his hand on the table. He seemed fondly fixated on the engagement ring, it was adorably distracting. 

But not so much that RK900 missed it when Johnathan Reed was joined by another person at his table. He chanced a glance back for a scan. Facial recognition wasn’t necessary- she was an ST300 model.

“Johnathan.” RK900 generated a simulation of the scene based on sound alone. The ST300 took a seat across from John. 

“Oh, hi Honey,” his stress level increased marginally, but he sounded at ease. He leaned back in his seat casually. “What a coincidence. What are you doing in a place like this?” 

“You know what I’m doing here. This doesn’t have to get ugly, Reed. Give it to me.” 

“What, that necklace? You know, I think I lost it. Memory’s goin’ to shit these days, lucky I can find my dick to piss-“ ah, so that charming way with words ran in the family as well, did it? 

“Enough. Get up, now, and take me to it. This doesn’t need to end badly for you.” 

“Can’t I finish my drink first?”

“Move. I will not ask politely again.” There was the quiet, unmistakable click of the safety on a pistol being switched off. 

RK900 pressed a kiss into Gavin’s hair for his attention and said, “Gavin, I hate to trouble you, but...”

“Mmhm?” 

“I do believe your father is being abducted at gunpoint.” 

Gavin mumbled something resembling ‘fuck him,’ and nuzzled stubbornly into RK900’s shoulder. And quite frankly, for just that, RK900 would have been perfectly willing to say ‘fuck him’ too, and leave Johnathan Reed to his fate. 

But then Gavin sat up as if startled and looked behind them, no consideration whatsoever for subtlety. “Wait, you mean like, for real? Like right now?” 

“Like right now,” RK900 confirmed. 

“Shouldn’t you go assist, Officer?” Gwen asked, nudging Tina. 

“Shit, I _guess_ ,” Tina looked to Gavin, suddenly seeming far more sober than she had moments ago. 

“Yeah, I guess, _fuck_ ,” Gavin sighed heavily and stood up, a little unsteady. 

Fuck, indeed, RK900 thought resentfully. Gavin was supposed to be having a nice time.

John seemed more than relieved to see them approach. “Oh, hey! Honey, this is my son, Gavin,” he gestured between them, “Gavin, Honey. She’s a...friend from work-“

“Cut the bullshit, old man,” Gavin snapped. Then, to the ST300, “look, lady, if he owes you money, get in fuckin’ line, I don’t think you can beat like twelve years worth of child support.” 

Straight to the point would be their approach, it seemed. Very well. As before, RK900 followed along. “Miss...Honey. Would you happen to have a CPL for that firearm you’re holding under the table? If not, I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to accompany us to the station. It is quite illegal to carry a gun in a bar without a license in the state of Michigan.” 

The android’s stress level remained perfectly even. She looked at each of their faces in turn and then sighed, “very well,” and made as if to stand. 

Then she flipped the table over, shoving it at them, and then sprinted for the door, firing two warning shots behind her. 

One went high, taking out a light, causing screams of panic all around, and the other caught RK900 in the abdomen.

_**Non-Critical Damage ** _

Could he not go one bloody month without getting shot? Had CyberLife engineered some magnetic alloy specific to bullets and built him out of it? Repairs were so _tedious_. Better him than Tina, who was standing just behind him trying to protect her wife, though. 

RK900 moved to pursue the ST300, but Gavin clumsily fumbled for his wrist and pulled him back. “Don’t you even fucking think about it,” he snarled, voice tight with panic already. Roughly he tugged RK900 to face him. 

“It’s not bad,” RK900 assured him, before he could begin to trouble himself over it further. Repairs were awful, but the worst part of being broken was how terribly it upset Gavin. The irony of teasing him about a papercut just that morning was not lost on RK900, unfortunately. 

This was sort of the same thing, though, a small inconsequential injury. Of course Gavin never saw it that way. It was sweet, heart-meltingly so, if not sometimes inconvenient. 

People around them were leaving in a hurry. John nonchalantly polished off his drink he’d been holding in his hand. “Damn. That was exciting, huh? Hey, thanks for helping out, guys.” 

Gavin rounded on him, one hand still gripping RK900’s arm for stability. “ _Fuck_ you, fuck off. You better start explaining real fuckin’ fast.” 

John shrugged, “what’s there to explain? Took some shit off CraigsList and she wasn’t happy about it-“

“Okay, Cool. Tina, cuff this fucker,”

“On it.” 

“Hey, hey, okay,” John held up his hands in surrender, retreating from Tina. “Can I get another drink first?” He asked, grinning. 

Tina took another step forward. 

“Alright, shit. Listen, the truth is...I might be in a little bit of trouble.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
